Things Unknown
by water4willows
Summary: Neal ignores an important phone call but will that matter when tragedy strikes? T for some slight language and violence. Not a Neal/Sara fan? Give the story a shot, it's evolving into much more than I ever expected. NOW COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

_Author's note: As always, I don't own any of the characters I play with. I only like to make them suffer. Un-beta'd_

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**Things Unknown**

"Neal, its Sara, again."

_Sara._

"I need you to call me as soon as you get this,"

_I've wanted to call you every day for the past 3 months._

"I have something I need to tell you,"

_I do too; it's been eating at me the way we left things_

"It's important. Please, call me as soon as you get this."

Neal Caffrey knew it was the self-inflicted torture that kept him playing the message over and over again. His rehearsed return call responses often ranged from the clever to the pathetic yet he couldn't help himself. Her voice was like a breath of fresh air, a reminder of the brief soiree into the realm of happiness he'd almost had with her then effectively dashed to pieces. Neal would never admit it out loud, but he missed the woman desperately. She had been a distraction and a respite from the ever present anklet and the FBI missions. Plus, besides the initial hesitation, he could safely admit that he had effectively fallen head over heels in love with her. Though, even Mozzie wouldn't be able to beat that confession out of him. Sara's leaving had stung with more pain that he cared to admit and left a hole the size of a grapefruit where his heart used to be. Neal figured Peter had an idea what had happened. Neal had been moody and distant ever since that day Peter interrupted Sara and him on the street when every fiber of his being had been screaming at him to make her stay, say what needed to be said to make it right and fix the gaping fissure that had sprung up between them. He had agonized every day for the past 3 months over how things had ended between them.

"Were you going to say goodbye to me?" The chance was staring him in the face and he blew it, just like he blew it with Peter the moment Elizabeth was kidnapped. With Peter at least he was able to repair their tearing seams with strategic stitches but Sara; he had just let her walk away.

He was playing the message for the 50th time when Peter unceremoniously flopped himself into the chair beside him in The Van, proffering the wire Neal would have to tape to his chest. Neal grudgingly stopped Sara mid-sentence and put the phone down in a huff. He could have sworn he caught the slightest glimpse of a smile play across Peter's face at his obviously miffed mood. The agent, however, did not ask for details and Neal was grateful. He wasn't sure if he would be able to hold it all back. In fact, if Peter had asked at that moment, Neal probably would have told him everything. Instead, the agent ripped a rather large piece of tape from the roll and held it up for Neal's inspection with no further effort to hide his amusement. Neal scowled his disapproval but refused to do anything but begin to undo the buttons of his incredibly expensive Armani shirt, a recent find from Byron's attic.

"Listen, if you're not up…" Peter started but Neal didn't let him finish.

"I'm fine, Peter. Run through it with me again." Peter studied him for a brief moment then continued.

"You're playing the fence. Jones' task force set up this meeting with a man named Nikolas Cage," Neal's brow immediately rose in disbelief, "I know, but not the same guy," Peter said with a laugh. "You're a fresh face to go in and exchange the cash for forged passports. Take the case, walk away and we'll move in. Easy as pie." Peter explained and Neal nodded absently. This wasn't even their operation; they were only stepping in to help Jones take down a guy he'd been tracking for most of his career. The man was his Neal Caffrey, essentially. Jones had begged Neal to help with the operation, buttering him up with compliments.

"You're the only one who can handle things if they get sticky,"

"You're the only one I trust not to screw this up for me," but it all translated to, "I need a con man, and you just happen to be around and available." So here Neal was, letting Peter tape yet another wire to his abused chest. Honestly, he wondered how he didn't have scars from working with the FBI.

"Any questions?" Peter asked once Neal was tucked back into his suit and had slipped his phone back into his pocket.

"No, I'm good. Thanks," He answered, though internally he wished he had just a few moments to listen to Sara's message again, wonder at what she could possibly want to talk about when she'd ended things so decidedly.

"Alright, go get 'em tiger," Peter grinned, opening the van doors for his CI and handing him a briefcase full of cash. It was not lost on Neal that previously in their relationship, Peter would have been hesitant to hand Neal this much money. The fact that he handed it over with no look of discomfort or disdain had to say something to the newly rebuilt trust between them. Didn't it? "Good luck."

Neal stepped out of the van and a brisk New York wind tossed his hair and pulled at his pant legs. Peter closed the van doors at his nod and Neal made his way north towards the meeting place. Even at his slow pace Neal would get there a few minutes early so he slowed his steps even further and pulled his cellphone out for one more round of torture. He was halfway through entering his voicemail pin when he remembered the earwig and the inquisitive agent listening in on the other end. Sara Ellis had him effectively distracted and Neal angrily stuffed the cell back into his pants pocket.

"Get your head in the game, Caffrey" he chided himself internally, and rounded the last corner of his trip and entered the park where the meeting would take place. He spotted the mark almost immediately. The man was in a khaki trench coat and was facing the opposite way in which Neal was approaching. Sweeping his gaze over the surroundings, Neal saw no hint of the tactical team that was lying in wait for him to make the exchange nor of any private security the mark may have brought with him. Nothing stood out as unusual, in fact the park was quite peaceful and Neal let himself relax and conjure his patented inner conman calm. Perhaps this really would be, as Peter coined, 'easy as pie'. Neal approached the man with a smile on his face and a swing in his step. As the man turned, hearing Neal's approach, Neal already had his hand extended in friendly greeting. The man faced him, Neal's smile faltered and the world stopped dead.


	2. Chapter 2

The hardest part about exiting the van was the stupid door release they had mentioned fixing a hundred times before. In fact, Peter had mentioned it in the office that very morning when the Chief had shaken his hand and wished him luck on the operation. Bring in the van for service after the op., that was the chief had said. After the op.

Peter's useless fingers fumbled with the door latch even as the echoes of the gunshot bounced around his brain. He'd been unconsciously screaming Neal's name with no response for the past 5 seconds as he tried to claw his way out of the van. Other voices were crowding the com link now and the door finally spilled Peter out onto the street. The only thought in his head was to reach Neal and as fast as he could and Peter took off at a dead run in the same direction Neal disappeared just minutes ago. He was the first on the scene but the howl of police sirens told him that backup was not far behind. Peter scanned the area and saw nothing other than a prone figure near the garden entrance. His stomach gave a sickening lurch at the bowler hat laying inches from the fallen man. It couldn't be Neal, it just couldn't.

"Neal?!" Peter, throwing caution and protocol to the wind, ran up beside the man lying on the concrete and fell to his knees beside him. Neal's head was turned away from Peter and he carefully cupped the CI's cheek and turned his head, searching for those piecing blue eyes. But Neal's eyes weren't open. He was unconscious, his skin was ashy and his chest was laboriously rising and falling with great difficulty due to a gunshot wound almost perfectly positioned in the center of his chest. Peter ripped Neal's Armani shirt at the buttons and then used the bloody entrance torn in his undershirt to pull the cloth away from the wound. Peter had seen his fair share of gunshot wounds, had even been on the receiving end of one once, but nothing prepared him for what he saw. The hole in Neal's chest was seeping blood up and out of his body at an alarming rate. Peter shrugged out of his jacket as quickly as his quaking body would allow, balled the material up and pressed it into the wound. Neal moaned pathetically, a small stream of blood trickled from the side of his mouth and then Neal stopped breathing.

"Shit, Neal! Don't you do this to me, buddy. Don't you give up!" Peter pleaded to his friend. Jones was beside him now, and put a reassuring hand on Peter's shoulder. Jones titled Neal's head back and pushed air into his lungs. Blood seeped from around Peter's jacket but Neal's chest rose and fell. Just like they had been taught, Jones would breath for Neal and Peter would keep the pressure on the wound and it wasn't until the paramedics pried Peter away from Neal that they stopped. It was out of his hands now and Peter watched with a feeling of detachment as the paramedic covered Neal's face with a mask and shocked him with the defibrillator until a weak heartbeat awoke on their monitors. There was nothing to do afterwards but follow the ambulance to the hospital.

Jones drove and it was quiet. Peter absentmindedly used a towel one of the paramedics offered him to clean the stubborn blood that had stained his hands. Neal's blood. Oh, God. How were they going to get out of this one?

Hours later, Peter found himself pacing the length of the ER waiting room with Elizabeth dozing in an uncomfortable chair and Jones speaking with an old acquaintance on the nursing staff, trying to get more information on Neal's condition. They had taken him in immediately for surgery and Peter had been left to sit and wonder if his friend, his partner really, would make it through the next few hours. Jones returned to his seat, obviously with no new news and Peter decided he needed some air. He kissed Elizabeth lightly on the forehead and told her where he would be. She knew he needed space and did not offer to follow but promised to call him if anything happened while he was away. Back out in the open space of the hospital parking lot Peter felt as if he could breathe again and tears came unbidden to his eyes. Tucked behind an ambulance in the bay, he let hours of worry and anger bubble over and Peter Burke began to cry.


	3. Chapter 3

Sara Ellis was tired of arguing with the hospital administrator over money. A semi-worthless stolen painting wasn't worth the back ache and sore feet she was getting from this endless day processing the hospitals claim. The only thing keeping her in the administrator's office was the intrigue as to who would want to steel an obscure artists painting from a hospital lobby, really but even that interest was waning. When finally a phone call to her superiors at Sterling Bosch convinced the man behind the desk that his claim would be given the utmost attention, Sara finally found herself free of the oppressive Hospital administration wing and back into the fresh air. She silently yearned for a cigarette but pushed the craving away. There were other factors to consider now. Mind on the craving, Sara almost missed the pacing figure near the ER ambulance bay. Looking again, she recognized him immediately and before she knew it, she was calling out his name.

"Peter! Peter!," Peter turned as soon as he heard her voice and stopped dead in his pacing. Sara Ellis made her way over to him quickly and threw her arms around his neck, clearly surprising the man who hugged her back after a few seconds of confusion. Tears came to Sara's eyes and she kicked herself for being so emotional but she couldn't help it. Words tumbled from her mouth before she even knew she was talking.

"Oh, Peter, I am so happy to see you. Has that lunatic friend of yours told you I've been trying to reach him for months? MONTHS PETER! How are you? Where's Neal? Did he tell you I've been trying to find him? That he pretends he's not home, won't talk to me and is behaving like a big baby? And furthermore and speaking of babies, do you think you could tell him about the mess he got me into or that he at least needs to acknowledge what happened!? I can't take much more of the ignoring Peter! I could kill him! I would kill him if he were here right now! Oh, Peter, what is he thinking?" She was more yelling than talking at the end of it all. Peter stood in front of her with eyes wide going from her distressed face to the bulge in her belly and back to her face again clearly at a loss for what to say. Sara, unable to control the emotions, began to cry again and Peter pulled her into another hug.

"Sara, he never said a thing to me." He said into her hair, trying to sooth her sobs.

"Honestly, Peter," She choked into his lapel, "I don't think he even knows or you'd think he would have at least called me back or had seen me all those times I went to June's. Why wouldn't he see me, Peter?"

Peter was at a loss for what to do. Sara was obviously in a very emotional place right now and the news that Neal was in an operating room fighting for his life would not do any favors for her but in the end Sara figured it out for herself. She pulled away from Peter and stared hard at him for a moment.

"What are you doing in the Hospital parking lot, Peter? Is it Neal? Is he okay?" Peter briefly thought of lying, but what good would it do now so looking at the pavement he told Sara everything.

Sara felt the ground sway under her feet and was grateful when Peter grabbed her arm and helped steady her.

"Was I wrong to tell you?"

"No," Sara said, squeezing his arm and smiling slightly, "No, I'm glad you told me. Can I sit with you guys until there's more news?" Peter looked into her tear stained eyes and couldn't say no. Sara let him lead her into the ER and to the waiting room where Elizabeth was immediately on her feet and at Sara's side. The two women shared a knowing look and Elizabeth did nothing but nod and lead her over to the chair next to hers. The two women laced fingers and sat silently while Peter and Jones went looking for more information on Neal. Sara closed her eyes and let her head rest on Elizabeth's shoulder. The older women wrapped her arms around Sara as the tears threatened and Sara Ellis, always strong as steel, began to cry.


	4. Chapter 4

_Author's Note: I ended up having some time today to finish up the next chapter. This one is a bit longer and I don't know how much you'll like me at the end of it._

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It was four hours later when the doctor entered the quiet and darkened waiting room to give the group news of their friend yet Peter was the only one awake. Jones had left to go home and change. Diana, who had come to relieve Jones, was out getting coffee and Sara and Elizabeth had found comfort and strength in each other and were dozing on one of the waiting rooms couches. Nobody had been able to reach Mozzie.

"Agent Burke?" The doctor asked softly, his eyes kind.

"That's me." Peter replied, getting up to meet the doctor at the door. He followed the gray haired surgeon out into the hall.

"Neal is out of surgery and in the recovery room. The bullet entered his chest and did some pretty bad damage. It shattered his sternum, grazed his heart and punctured a lung. All that we've been able to control and repair, however the bullet came to rest perilously close to his spine. We don't see any indication that anything was severed, but there is severe swelling so we can't really say at this juncture if he is going to be paralyzed when or if he wakes up. "

Peter stared incredulously at the doctor as the surgeon's words echoed and ricocheted around his brain. Spine. Swelling. Paralysis. When or if he wakes up. It was as if Peter had stepped under the cold spray of a shower. Ice trickled down his back at the thought of a paralyzed Neal. Neal, who was so full of life and now about to be a father. The thought of it all threaten to topple Peter and it wasn't over yet. The doctor continued.

"Your friend suffered a tremendous amount of internal damage; he's not breathing on his own and is on a ventilator. We'll continue to monitor him and give him all the help we can, but the fight is in his corner now."

Peter could only nod and scrub a hand over his face as the news sunk in. The doctor patted the Agent's arm and turned to leave before Peter finally found his voice again.

"When can we see him?"

"I'll have a nurse come and get you as soon as he's in a room." The doctor replied, offering Peter one last soft reassuring smile before disappearing back into the OR wing leaving Peter alone in the brightly lit hallway. _When and if. _Peter pushed back into the waiting room and immediately met Elizabeth's gaze. Taking in his saddened face, she held a hand out to him which he took and kissed. Kneeling beside his wife and the sleeping Sara he told her everything the doctor had just said. Elizabeth nodded but didn't move to wake Sara, letting her instead sleep in peaceful ignorance, at least for a little while more.

When Neal had been settled the doctor kept his promise and sent a nurse to notify the waiting group that one person at a time could visit Neal's bedside. All eyes went to Peter who accepted the nomination silently and followed the nurse to the ICU. She deposited him at the door with a few kind words and a soft touch to his arm. Peter entered the darkened room and was only half surprised at what he found there.

"How'd you get in here?" Mozzie looked up at Peter apologetically but did not rise from his chair beside Neal's bed or release the hand he held in his own.

"I have my ways, suit."

Peter crossed to the other side of the room and put tentative hands on the high railing of the hospital bed. Neal's eyes were closed and he looked like he could be sleeping. The CI that Peter Burke had grown to know and love was fighting for his life and there was nothing any of them could do to help. Peter had never before felt so helpless. Prayers felt futile against the respirator tube extending from Neal's mouth or the IV's and monitors crowding his bedside. What use were well wishes and sympathetic thoughts when a friend was fighting against Death himself?

An overwhelming need to connect with Neal stole over Peter unexpectedly and the agent stretched a trembling hand out to touch the side of Neal's face. It was cold to the touch and Peter fought against a sudden urge to pull away, out and back from the hospital, away from everything, from the whole situation. He pushed the mutinous thought down deep and clung to Neal's hand as if it were an anchor.

"He looks so vulnerable." Mozzie said softly, hardly above a whisper. "What do the doctors say?"

"What, you don't know that already?" Peter regretted the comment almost immediately when Mozzie's face fell. They all needed to stick together if they were going to help Neal get through this.

"Sorry Habersham. The doctor said the bullet grazed his heart, punctured a lung and might have hit his spine. They're waiting for the swelling to go down before they know more." Mozzie nodded. Peter knew Mozzie well enough to understand that he was very worried for his friend. The bald man would normally be a fountain of playful abandon but no friendly banter passed between the two conscious men this time. Peter found himself missing Mozzie's natural ease in a tense situation.

"He's going to be okay, Moz."

"Sure he is suit. Call me if anything changes, okay?" Peter quickly agreed and with a final glance to Neal's prone figure, Mozzie left the small room.

Peter took up the abandoned chair beside Neal and replaced Mozzie's hand with his own. The hushed ICU went on around them and only the blips on the heart monitor hinted the passage of time. Peter contemplated the events of the day and an idea sprung to mind. It would either kill Neal dead or perhaps offer some hope for Neal to pull through all of this and be okay.

"Neal, I have something I need to tell you. You might not like what I'm about to tell you but you need to hear it. If anything, you've got to fight harder because of it, okay? Sara's here, Neal. You know that voicemail you've been listening to over and over for the past few months but haven't had the courage to return? Thought I didn't know about that, did you? I told you Neal. Time and again! I know everything." Peter paused and chuckled softly as happy memories played back in his mind.

"Anyway, Sara had a real good reason to need to speak with you. She's pregnant, buddy. You're going to be a daddy." Tears burned unexpectedly at the corner of Peter's eyes and the enormity of what he had just spoken to his friend hit him square in the chest. This was a turning point in Neal's life. If he made it through all this, nothing would ever be the same in the young CI's world. Good or bad outcome, Neal Caffrey was a changed man.

"So, I'm going to need you to put all you've got into getting better, Neal. We're all depending on you to pull through this. I need my CI back and your new baby is going to need a father. I hope you're listening to me Neal. I'm only going to tell you this once and it's a good thing you're unconscious because I'll deny saying this till the day I die. You're a good friend Neal and you mean the world to Elizabeth and I. We all love..."

Peter's last words were cut off suddenly by a loud chirp from a machine beside his head. In no time a chorus of alarms had Peter up and out of his seat, leaning over Neal's bed.

"Don't you do this to me, Caffrey!" Peter choked. A nurse appeared at his side and swiftly pulled him away.

"Sir, you must get out!" Another nurse herded him quickly from the room and the words he heard next froze his blood.

"Page Dr. Nelson. I need a crash cart in here, NOW!"

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_TBC, if time is on my side I hope to have the next chapter finished by later this week._


	5. Chapter 5

_Author's Note: So, the muse has descended apparently and who am I to ignore! I managed to get 3 new chapters written today. I'm having so much fun with this story. Un-beta'd so all mistakes are mine._

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"Sir, I have the information you wanted."

"And?"

"I've confirmed that he is at St. Anthony's in the ICU. The FBI agent is with him."

"Anyone else?"

"Sir… my wife. Is she okay? When do I get her back?"

"Anyone. Else?"

"They've got officers on the door and two other agents. There are a few other people waiting around, but I think they're just friends.

"Fine. If you're information is correct, your wife will be at the warehouse on the corner of 24th and Pine in four hours. If I have even an inkling that anything you've told me is incorrect or a ruse, you will never see your wife again. Do I make myself clear?

"Yes, sir. I assure you, the intel is good."

"We'll see about that."


	6. Chapter 6

Elizabeth Burke had just begun to doze again when a hand on her shoulder brought her fully awake. Mozzie smiled down at her and silently gestured towards the sleeping Sara, raising his eyebrows in astonishment. Elizabeth shrugged her shoulders and offered the bespectacled man a bemused half smile. She pointed to the empty chair beside the couch she and Sara occupied, but Mozzie shook his head, tipped an invisible hat and was gone as soon as he had come. Elizabeth sighed and Sara began to stir.

Blinking sleepily the pregnant woman sat up and tried to scrub the tired from her eyes.

"I'm sorry Elizabeth, I didn't mean to fall asleep on you." She apologized, stretching her arms with audible pops.

"Sara, you've been through a lot today, it's the least I could do," Elizabeth replied, smoothing down the back of the younger woman's hair.

"Has there been any news? Is he out of surgery?" Elizabeth contemplated leaving Sara in the dark, possibly until Peter returned from Neal's room, but something told her Sara could handle the truth. She laid out what Peter had relayed from the surgeon and while Sara's hand went to her mouth in shock, she seemed to handle the news well.

"So, we wait?"

"Peter is with him now. He'll come give us an update soon."

"I can't believe this is happening." Sara said, putting her head in her hands. "And I've been saying that an awful lot lately." Elizabeth patted the woman's back affectionately.

"Did Peter tell you that Neal doesn't even know about the pregnancy? I tried to tell him but he kept avoiding me and not returning my phone calls. June has been in Europe for the past few months otherwise I know she would have gotten him the message. After a while, I just gave up trying. I mean, I don't even know where I stand with Neal, if he'll want this baby or even care that it happened." Sara was beginning to weep again, the events of the day sinking in at last.

"Sara, it's always been clear to me that Neal is crazy about you. Don't worry yourself thinking about all that now. We've got to be strong and get him through this."

"I just wish I could talk to him about it. I've finally got him pinned down and now I can't say the things I want to and be sure that he hears them. God, I hate being so emotional. I wish Peter would come back and give us an update already."

As if on cue, Peter burst through the waiting room doors. He was at Elizabeth's side in a flash looking agitated and upset. Elizabeth's heart leapt, she recognized that look on her husband's face and quickly said a silent prayer for Neal. Sara sat up to attention, her own woes forgotten in a moment.

"They kicked me out. Neal was in trouble, but they wouldn't let me stay." Elizabeth took Peter's hand in her own and held fast. She knew what Neal's predicament was doing to both Sara and her husband and she knew she had to be strong for all of them. Elizabeth pushed down the emotions threatening to overflow and tried to solidify the patented Elizabeth Burke cool. It was a tried and true maneuver, her own little superhero power and she would be strong now for the people who needed her most. Squaring her shoulders, Elizabeth pulled Peter in to a hug, trying to convey in the simple touch that she was there for him and would be by his side through whatever came next.

The three waited for what seemed like hours until a harried looking nurse finally came to the ICU waiting room to give them news of Neal. Cardiac arrest was the culprit but he was also showing some signs of infection. It had taken several tries, but the staff had been able to get Neal's heart beating again and there was even evidence that he was trying to take some breaths on his own. He was stable at the moment and visitors were allowed again. Elizabeth thanked the woman who hurried back out of the waiting room.

"Sara, why don't you go and sit with him for a while?" Elizabeth suggested, noting the color had drained from Sara's face. "Maybe you'll do him some good."

"Do you think I'm a good idea? He doesn't know about… all this," she replied, gesturing toward her protruding belly.

"I told him," Peter spoke up. "I hope you don't mind, but I thought he needed to hear it, that maybe it would give him a little extra something to fight for."

Sara studied him for a moment but wasn't angry. "No, that's okay. I'm glad you did, now I can just be with him and not worry about how to explain the rest."

After Sara left the waiting room, Peter collapsed into the seat beside Elizabeth. She settled into the arms he held open to her and rested her head on his chest.

"I love you, El. Thank you for being here with me."

"Peter Burke, there is nowhere else I would rather be." Elizabeth turned in Peter's arms and placed a soft kiss on his lips. "Nowhere."

"I can't help feeling like I landed him here, El. He wouldn't have even been there if I hadn't asked him to help Jones out on an operation."

"Please don't beat yourself up over this, Peter. Neal knows that you would never put him a position to be hurt like this. Risk is part of your job. Neal understands that."

"My friend is on life support, fighting just to stay alive. What do I do, El?"

"Love, you do your job."


	7. Chapter 7

The entire White Collar division was up on their feet to greet Peter as he made his way into the bull pen. Jones was at the head of the eager group waiting for an update on Neal's condition.

"Okay, everyone. Neal is out of surgery and in the ICU. He's still on a respirator and they were trying to knock back a fever that had just started around the time I left. I won't lie to you, it's very serious but my wife is there with him now and she has promised to give me updates throughout the day. We've put a police protection detail on his room. Let's not forget that someone tried to kill him today. We mustn't let our concern for his condition cloud our objective here: finding who shot Neal and bringing them to justice. Now, the FBI has another team on this but asked that White Collar use our resources and personal relationship with Neal to try and find out what happened today. I want everyone with time to spare in the conference room in twenty minutes. Jones, Diana, I need to see you two alone in my office."

The office dispersed quickly as Jones, Peter and Diana made their way to Peter's office. Peter pulled the glass door closed behind him and took his chair.

"Jones, please do not take this the wrong way, but I need to know everything about the Op today, the target, and how you set up this meet."

If Jones was upset at the direction of Peter's question he didn't show it. He took them quickly and efficiently through the events leading up to the bust, trying to add anything that might be important.

"When I received notice through a street contact that Cage would be in town today, I knew Neal was the man for the job. I asked you for Neal's help on Monday, you had spoken with him and agreed on Tuesday and 2 days later we had everything arranged. My CI set up the meeting and here we are" Jones finished.

"Who was your street contact?"

"Just a low level punk who got off light when he agreed to inform. I only used him one other time but his information was good. He just got married a few weeks ago so I had shuffled him to the back of the pile, so to speak."

"And he told you that Cage would be in town today?"

"That's correct, Sir."

"Jones, I made some calls to a few Interpol contacts of mine. Cage's last known location was in London. A friend of mine was working in the area and made a little detour for me. As far as anyone can tell, Cage has been there for several weeks and has not left. I think it's safe to assume that the man in the park today was not Nikolas Cage."

"Boss, everything I had pointed to this being legit. I'm sorry and I understand if disciplinary action has to be taken against me."

"Jones, you've been tracking this guy for how many years? You got some intel from what you thought was a reliable source. This is a man you've been trying to take down for most of your career. You had no idea that whoever Neal met in the park yesterday was going to pull a gun and shoot Caffrey. No one is going to blame you for anything that went down today, that's a promise. What we've got to do now is concentrate our efforts on finding out what happened and who did this to Neal."

"Boss, where do you want us?" Diana asked, trying to convey to Jones with her words that she was behind him 100%.

"Diana, please go back to the hospital and coordinate with the local PD there. Something about all this just doesn't sit right with me and I want Neal protected until we find out what's going on. Jones, I want you to go talk to your contact and see if you can get anything out of him. Bring him in if you think he's in danger and if it will help you get information. I'm going to stay here and comb through what we've got with the rest of the team to see if we can find anything. If I'm not here, then I'll be at the hospital with Neal."

With those words, Jones and Diana were out of their seats and headed out of Peter's office.

"Diana?" He called before she could shut his door again.

"Yeah?"

"Keep them safe."

"You got it, Boss.

Alone for the first time in 24 hours, Peter let his body relax back into his chair. He suddenly felt bone weary and his tired mind kept playing over the final scene in Neal's room. Monitors flashing, alarms sounding and Neal's skin as white as the sheets covering him. Peter was tired, had eaten little if anything all day and he longed for a good night's sleep in bed next to his beautiful wife. But sleep seemed like a commodity Peter did not deserve while Neal lay dying in a hospital across town, watched over by the CI's pregnant ex-girlfriend and the boss' wife. The thought almost made Peter smile.

Almost.


	8. Chapter 8

The man in the green scrubs had been mapping the hospital halls for the past several hours, meticulously cataloging the rigid network of the ICU. A life of lurking in the shadows of men had given this inconspicuously clothed man an advantage here. He was stealthy, crafty and these gifts, while expensive to his client's, were priceless in his work. He blended in, unique and lovingly created disguises kept him invisible. A subtle and perfected art kept him from their notice. A few more hours of his presence and the officer's guarding his prize would let him right in the door. They would be familiar enough with his presence to let him slip by but never be able to quite recollect the plain orderly who might have slipped in and back out before the patient died. The only variable in the entire man's plan was the constant, uncontrollable stream of visitors into the room. He was expecting the heightened security, his client had been perfectly clear that the local police department and the FBI were guarding this man. The friends and family, however, he could do without.

Absconding with a cart, the disguised orderly made his move. The previous keeper of the equipment lay sprawled in a utility closet and would not be moving any time soon, if ever again. The thought of the shallow breathing and ashen skin of the fallen orderly sent a wave of sensation coursing through the man's veins. This is what he lived for; the thrill of the hunt and the electricity of holding another life in his hands. The experience could be made to last for months, if he wanted. From the first moment the phone rang and the contract agreed upon, the images would begin to flash in his brain. The perfect concoction would be formulated, the mark thoroughly researched and stalked until the man knew every aspect of every day of their lives. Then the real games would begin and the intricate dance to get close enough to the victim would commence. When contact was made, the plunger depressed and the life was held in his hands only and on his terms, that was where the payoff lay. This particular job was a rush, but sometimes the rushed ones would linger with him for years. He could bask in the joy of his genius for ages until the next time his phone rang. And his pocketbook wouldn't suffer either.

Several syringes lay artistically hidden in plain view on the cart he pushed. There was enough morphine in each to take down even the strongest of men, but one syringe he kept secured around his neck. This syringe was one he brought on every job. It contained a strong poison, one which would dispatch him quickly, should he ever be captured or taken. The man had never yet needed the comforting contents of that needle, though there were several times he'd been prepared to use it.

The tension was beginning to mount, the adrenalin was kicking into high gear and his senses were on high alert. His first stop was the room beside his victim. It was an elderly patient who had had no visitors the entire time the man had watched. The fallen orderly's schedule had been cataloged precisely so no one entered the curtained space where the man now lay in wait. When the appropriate amount of time had passed, the man wheeled his cart out back into the hall. His heart beat calmly; he had complete control over his body and mind in the moment. He took his steps naturally, leisurely, a mask of indifferent boredom on his face. A quick look to a clip board, a check of the patient's name on the board outside the room, and he was in. The officers were distracted and talking to a cute scrub nurse. The room was empty and his patient was alone. Luck was truly on his side today.

Drawing his cart beside the bed, he calmly reached for a syringe. The appropriate IV port was chosen and the needle slid home erotically. The man took a moment to enjoy the sensation. His finger lingered on the plunger and his eyes rolled back as he stroked the top of the slide. The feeling of control was exquisite, overwhelming and he was drowning in it. The decision to take a life was his. Perhaps he should waive the fees for his services. Was there anything more beautiful than this bliss? The moment was here, the plunger was sliding home. Neal Caffrey was a dead man


	9. Chapter 9

It was the odd look on the orderly's face that drew Peter's attention first. The man's eyes were closed, his head was thrown back slightly with mouth agape. Peter's line of sight drew down to the orderly's hand which grasped a syringe held at the port in Neal's arm. Peter's stomach summersaulted as the gears in his head clicked and he realized what was happening. A sudden rage stole over Peter who, with no other conscious thought, flung himself bodily across the room and into the unsuspecting orderly.

The force of Peter's body slam sent the assassin's form flying into the far wall. A deft hand shot out to grab the lapel of Peter's suit and the agent was dragged along bodily as the man crashed to the floor. In the tangle of flailing limbs, the orderly's fist came up fast and cracked across Peter's jaw. A quick turn of his head sent the blow glancing off Peter's cheek and he desperately tried to gain some purchase on the assailant. The orderly was fast, however, and was already maneuvering himself off the floor and over Peter. Peter managed to get a foot underneath himself and reared up into the still teetering orderly, taking him by surprise. The orderly's feet had not quite found solid ground and he was sent sprawling again to the floor. A foot kicked out viciously and connected painfully with Peter's knee, pulling a cry of surprise from his lips and buckling him into the side of Neal's hospital bed. The syringe, which Peter had all but forgotten, was plunged into the flesh of his thigh and depressed. In the stunned seconds that followed, Peter felt a cloud of fuzz descend on his senses and his arms fell uselessly to his side.

Something warm was pulling at him softly, lulling him into oblivion. Peter's body no longer felt like his own and he collapsed bonelessly into the linoleum. Listless eyes met the man's standing over him but there was no room for fear amid the clouds in his head. Peter watched in detached amusement as the orderly extracted a 2nd syringe from his shirt pocket never breaking the line of their eyes.

The voices started then. There were shouts and maybe even someone calling his name. The man before him was tackled to the ground, but not before the second needle found the orderly's chest, just above his heart. Someone's hands were on him, pawing at his shirt front but Peter was done with fighting. His breathing slowed. Eyes drooped shut and an inky blackness enveloped him.


	10. Chapter 10

_Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who is following this story. I'm having so much fun with this tale but I'm a nervous, self-conscious wreck about my writing. Would you take a few minutes and let me know what you think so far in a review? I appreciate so very much everyone who has already left one. You motivate me to keep plugging along on this story that is evolving into something I never expected. Thank you!_

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The first hint of trouble came in the form of a muffled gasp of pain. Officer Franklin tuned out the conversation his partner was having with the cute nurse that had just gotten on duty and strained to hear the sound again. Had he really heard that or was it something imagined? Cop instincts kicking in, Franklin focused harder and could now clearly hear the sounds of a struggle coming from inside the room he was meant to be guarding. Grabbing his oblivious partner by the collar, he sprinted back to the post they had abandoned minutes ago.

Shock kept him rooted to his spot in the doorway for a fraction of a second. Agent Peter Burke was down, collapsed against Caffrey's bed with a large orderly looming over him. A syringe protruded grotesquely from the agent's thigh and the man standing over him was wielding a second hypo. Immediately sensing the danger radiating from the orderly, Franklin ran forward and tackled the imposing assailant to the ground, grabbing at the syringe while trying to avoid being stuck himself. The two men fumbled for purchase of the syringe, but Franklin was unable to dislodge it from the orderly's hands. The officer watched in sick fascination as the man managed to position the syringe properly and plunge the shot into his own chest before stilling.

Franklin had his handcuffs out in a flash but could tell they were not going to be necessary. The man slumped onto his back, manic eyes darted back and forth from Franklin to the emptied syringe sticking out from above the man's heart. A ghost of a smile spread across his face and something like a laugh gurgled from deep in his chest. Franklin watched the man take several shallow gasps of air then stop moving altogether. Kneeling down beside the still figure, he checked quickly for a pulse but knew he wouldn't find one. Officer Franklin had been a cop long enough to know that the man before him was dead.

Franklin's attention was pulled back to the FBI agent as people began rushing in to the room. Diana, if he remembered her name correctly, was feeling for a pulse at Agent Burke's throat and calling his name desperately. The senior agent was not responding. A doctor pushed through into the room and was beside the agent, an ear to his chest.

"He's barely breathing. You need to clear this room and get a gurney in here now!" Franklin's partner was in motion almost immediately. He cleared the extra people from the room expertly, making space for several ICU nurses to enter. Franklin quickly relayed what he had seen to another doctor that had shown up to help. He handed over the syringes he'd taken from the orderly and Agent Burke's leg and several others that were on a cart near Caffrey's bed. The doctor took the syringes, alerting his colleague that he would get them over to the lab a.s.a.p. to find out what was in the shots.

A board appeared beside the prone agent and gentle hands rolled him onto his side and then back onto the board. It took several people to lift Agent Burke from the floor onto the gurney in the tight space of the ICU room. The doctor listened immediately to Burke's chest again, anxiously searching for signs of life, but the Agent's chest was silent. A heart monitor appeared at his side and the machine thankfully registered a weak heartbeat.

"Let's get him into a free room. I want him intubated." An ambou bag obscured Peter's face, desperately needed oxygen being pushed forcibly into the agent's lungs. The gurney was wheeled out of the room and anxious eyes followed its pell-mell course down the hallway and into a spare room. Franklin followed behind and took up guard at the new door, his partner staying behind to watch over the still unconscious, but now safe, Caffrey.

Agent Burke was intubated quickly, a machine taking over for Peter's repressed lungs. Nurses and doctors buzzed around his still form and Franklin heard snippets of their conversation.

"This looks like morphine overdose. He's stopped breathing but his heart is still going. Shooting him up with Naloxone won't hurt. Draw up a chem. panel and check the markers for morphine first and check on those syringes Barton took."

Franklin fought back an urge to fire questions at the doctor but a commotion at the end of the hall quickly drew his focus. Elizabeth Burke was trying desperately to get through a crowd of nurses and coworker's barring the way, demanding loudly to see her husband. Franklin made his decision before the idea even formed in his mind. Striding down the hall purposefully, he parted the crowd with an authoritative growl and pulled Elizabeth through by her arm. The woman picked up immediately on what he intended to do and allowed herself to be led past Neal's room, past the crime scene tape and the shrouded body of the dead orderly. She didn't ask any questions, just followed Franklin silently until they reached Peter's room.

"She can't go in there just yet," a nurse said, greeting them at the door. "Give the doc a few more minutes." Franklin nodded when he realized Elizabeth was in no condition to respond. Thanking the nurse, he stood silently beside the stoic woman, offering her the only comfort he had, his presence. Her shoulders shook briefly at one point, but by the time he had turned his head, Elizabeth Burke was back under control.


	11. Chapter 11

Peter's first conscious thought was of the terrible pain in his throat and a voracious, demanding thirst. Trying to wet his mouth was futile and he took a few tentative breaths through the nose. He felt a strange sensation at his face and moved a hand to bat away the offending object. Before he could pull at whatever obscured his nose and mouth, a soft hand enveloped his own and Elizabeth's voice filled his head.

"Leave that alone, you need it."

Peter's eyes flew open and he was immediately sorry for it. The room spun violently on its axis and bile filled the back of this throat. Peter fought against a fierce wave of nausea, desperately trying to keep the contents of his stomach in check, but it wasn't going to work.

"El!" He managed to gasp before moving the mask away from his face and vomiting into the emesis basin his wife held out for him. When it was over, he collapsed back into his bed, sweaty and completely drained. Elizabeth adjusted the oxygen back over his face and Peter took several shaky breaths.

"El, what happened? Are you alright?" He implored when he could finally speak again. He was worried about his wife. Her eyes were rimmed with red and her clothes were crumpled and unkempt as if she's spent several days in them. He had obviously jolted her awake, Elizabeth's face was puffy with sleep and lined with creases from the makeshift pillow she'd made with a blanket.

"El?" His voice sounded funny coming from the oxygen mask and he moved again to remove it from his face, but Elizabeth's hand stopped his once more.

"I said, you need that." Peter let his arm fall back down to his side, defeated. He began to raise his question again when the doctor appeared at the hospital room door, saving Elizabeth the job of trying to explain to Peter exactly what had happened to him.

"Agent Burke, I'm doctor Burton. How are you feeling?"

"Okay, it's a little hard to breathe." Now that he knew Elizabeth was semi-okay, he realized the tightness in his chest wasn't anxiety about his wife, but rather a genuine ache from the efforts of breathing.

"He just vomited, too." Elizabeth interjected.

"That's to be expected. You were given a near lethal dose of morphine which slowed and eventually stopped your ability to breathe. One of my colleagues was able to diagnose the overdose and administer a drug that counters morphine's effect. We had to intubate you and put you on a respirator, but when the inversing agent kicked in and the morphine began to leave your system, we were able to slowly wean you off it. You might experience some difficulty breathing, dizziness and tightness in your chest, but if you keep the oxygen mask on, it shouldn't be so bad. I can bring you something for the nausea, but that might stick around for a while as well. We're going to keep our eye on your oxygen levels, but I don't see any reason why you won't make a full and complete recovery." Peter could see the effect the doctors words had on Elizabeth. She visibly relaxed in his peripheral vision.

"Are you in any pain or discomfort?"

"Besides the elephant sitting on my chest? No, I'm fine." Peter joked and Elizabeth offered him a smile that didn't meet her eyes.

"Do you have any questions or concerns before I go, Agent Burke?"

"Doc, that other man, the orderly, is he dead?" The doctor paused a moment as if choosing his words carefully.

"He was pronounced dead, anything else you'll have to get from the police department or your agents. Now, is there anything else regarding your condition I can clarify for you?" When Peter and Elisabeth both shook their heads, the doctor disappeared the same way he had come.

"El? Can you tell me what happened?" His voice was fading fast and his request came out breathy and weak. He cringed internally at the useless state he found himself in. Elizabeth was near tears again, but she took a shaky breath and played out the events of the last few hours. Peter was speechless.

"My, God. Do they know who the man was?"

"Jones told me he was some sort of assassin for hire. Apparently they're linking him to 20+ crimes spanning 15 years or more... and those are just the ones that are in the database. This guy was a cold blooded killer and apparently he was after you and Neal."

"Just Neal." Peter stated suddenly.

"What?!"

"He was only after Neal. I… I interrupted him. He had something in a, in a s-shot, it must have been the same one he got me with. He was going give N…Neal the overdose of morphine but I showed up in the room and... and..." Air was suddenly at a standstill. An immediate panic tightened around his chest and constricted his airways, refusing to let his lungs expand. Visions of fighting with the assassin came barreling back to him and try as he might, he could not make his lungs re-inflate. Elizabeth shot up from her chair and leaned over him, calling his name and desperately trying to catch his eyes. Panic constricted his chest further and an alarm began to ding beside his bed. In an instant Dr. Burton was back at his side.

"Peter? Agent Burke? You've got to slow your breathing, sir, you're hyperventilating." Something was injected into the IV stand beside him.

"Peter, baby, look at me." Peter's panic filled eyes found Elizabeth's. "That's it, focus on me and concentrate on calming down.

You've got this. Neal is fine. You are fine and we're going to get through this but you've got to focus and just breathe. That's it. Slow breaths. Your lungs are open, your airways are open and you're fine." Peter grabbed hold of El's words and focused all he had on drawing in a ragged breath. Something shifted minutely inside and air was suddenly accessible again. "That's it Peter. Relax. I'm here with you. Deep breaths, deep easy breaths." The panic attack was ebbing and whatever the doc had given him in his IV was finally starting to take effect and pulling him towards sleep. After several minutes, Peter lapsed back into oblivion and Elizabeth resumed her vigil.


	12. Chapter 12

"Diana! I see you lurking out there. Get in here and give me an update!" It was 2 days later and Peter found himself in new surroundings. The FBI, after the orderly incident, had arranged to have Neal and Peter moved to a new, undisclosed hospital in New York under false identities. They were only holding Peter one more day for observation but the itch to get out of the hospital was so bad, he was often found out of bed and sitting beside Neal who was stubbornly refusing to wake. Peter was taking it upon himself to keep his CI apprised of how the case was going.

The man who had tried to take Neal's life a little over a week ago in the park was still at large but Peter knew now he was a force to be reckoned with and one they'd been underestimating. The madman sent to kill Neal was evidence enough of that. Jones and Diana were giving him constant updates, it was the only way they could get him to stay in the hospital and rest. The information coming out of their dead assassin was chilling and unsettling at best. The man was being linked to countless mob hits, murders and crimes across the country and the White Collar team was just getting started. DNA recovered from the man and an arsenal of poisons found at his home was bringing cases out of the woodwork faster than the division could process. They had gladly turned that aspect of the case over to their FBI counterparts in Violent Crimes.

Elizabeth was doing much better, too. Peter had finally talked her into leaving the hospital for a few hours the day before to shower and get some much needed uninterrupted sleep. It took both Peter and Diana to convince her that everything was under control and everyone would be safe if she left. It seemed that every day Peter grew stronger, the light came back a bit more to her eyes until just hours ago the air in Neal's room had tinkled with the sound of her laughter.

Diana made her way cautiously into Peter's room, treading the ever changing waters around him carefully.

"Hey, Boss."

"Don't 'hey boss' me. How are things going?"

"The team working on the assassin's account book thinks they might have something soon. They're not certain it's the key to cracking that nut job's code, but they feel like it's a step in the right direction."

"What about Jones? Any news on his informant?" Diana's eyes dropped and Peter stole himself against the bad news he knew was about to hear.

"They found the man and his wife murdered at a warehouse down on Pine. CSI's combed the area but haven't come up with anything." Peter contemplated the new information with brow furroughed. The body count was rising and it terrified him to think who could be next.

"Alright, that's okay. We've still got other leads to follow. I want all our efforts concentrated on that assassin's house and follow up with the team on the account books and let me know as soon as they find something."

"You got it, boss." Diana turned to leave but stopped and came back to Peter's beside.

"I haven't really had a chance to talk to you since this all went down, Peter. I guess i just wanted to say that I'm glad you made it through that mess at St. Anthony's. We were all really worried about you for a while there, but Elizabeth.. well she refused to let any of us lose hope. She's an amazing woman, sir."

"Yes she is. Thank you, Diana."

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_A/N: You're one small click away from leaving me a review. Just slide your mouse on down, deposit your cursor, type me a few small words of encouragement (or outrage) then be on your way. Its that easy! You know you want to :)_


	13. Chapter 13

_A/N: Don't ask me how I did it, but the final chapters of this story are finished! Now its time to tweak and rearrange and edit it to make them respectable. Bare with me, I'll post them as soon as I can._

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"Okay, Mr. Burke, you're officially sprung!"

"Why Mrs. Burke, you _are_ a sight for sore eyes."

"You know, I never really understood that expression." Elizabeth handed Peter the hospital bag that held his personal items and Peter took it with a chuckle. He was finally, _finally_ being released from the hospital with a clean bill of health. The sudden lightness was almost exhilarating and he pulled Elizabeth to him for a quick kiss to her lips.

"Remind me to explain its origins to you some day." he said, unwilling to release his wife who laughed and pushed him away with a smile.

"What do you want to do first, my love? Though I think I know the answer to that."

Elizabeth acquiesced to Peter's request to sit with Neal with no complaint at all, even though she yearned to take Peter home to their own home and their own bed. It had been so long since they had been home that she almost couldn't recall what it felt like to occupy that space with her husband. She wheeled the indignant agent to Neal's room ("Its hospital policy, Peter!") and left him there to go in search of Sara.

Alone again with his friend, Peter looked Neal over with what felt like fresh perspective. While he hadn't set foot outside this building since being brought over in the unmarked ambulance, being released had loosened something inside his chest. Breathing felt easier for the first time in days. However, the one thing that still hung on Peter's heart was the unchanged condition of his friend.

Neal still had not regained consciousness nor his ability to breathe on his own. He was also fighting an aggressive infection and had undergone another surgery, yet his battered and broken body still held on, refusing to give up. Peter liked to think it was the constant presence of those who loved Neal most that was making the difference, but perhaps it was simpler than that. Perhaps it came down to the fact that Neal Caffrey was a con man and tricking his body into healing would be his greatest con of all. Or maybe, another part of his brain chimed in, it was the news that Neal was going to be a father.

Children had never a good idea for Peter and Elizabeth. Bringing a child into a world full of so much crime, crime that he faced and fought every day, just didn't make sense. He saw humanity at its worst every day, how could he consciously bring a child into this world to face it all? His hours were long as well and there was always the risk that the job would one day take his life, though that chance diminished slightly working the White Collar division until quite recently. Yet, business men could still wield guns, forgers and Ponzi-scheme creators could still be killers. But, even with all that, Peter had to admit that the look Elizabeth got in her eyes when she was near Sara stirred something deep within him. He could just imagine the gears turning in her head, her eyes sparkling at the thoughts her conversations with Sara conjured. Elizabeth would make a wonderful mother and maybe that was enough so to outweigh all the arguments he made against having a baby... Well, what ever happened in their future, Peter knew he would keep on his crime fighting path and make this world a better place for Neal's child.

Shaking the line of thought from his mind, Peter took Neal's hand in his.

"Neal, they keep telling me that there is a good possibility that you can hear me, so I'm going to keep talking your ear off until you pull out of this and wake up. They're working on trying to make some sense of the code books that assassin left behind. Diana said they think they're close to something.

We did manage to find out that the psycho's name was Josef Miller. He was from New Jersey and you wouldn't believe the stuff we found in that guy's place. I don't think he ever expected to get caught that day he attacked you. He had ID on him and everything, led us right to his... well you couldn't call it a home really. Let's just say, that man was one nasty guy. I won't go into the details, it makes me sick just thinking about what that man was up to, but he won't be hurting anyone ever again and I'm trying to take comfort in that.

I keep wondering, Neal... if you were awake, would you see something in all of this that we can't? Some pattern out there that we can't comprehend. I'm dying to let you get your hands on those account books, Neal, pardon the pun. You'd be like a kid in a candy store with them. I can see you now, pouring over those books until you can't see straight, bounding into my office when you'd finally cracked the code, making me so proud. You always made me proud Neal and maybe I didn't tell you that enough. If you wake up for me, buddy, I'll make sure I tell you every day. Open your eyes, let us all tell you how much you mean to us." But Neal did not stir, and Peter moved on to regaling him with stories of old baseball glory days.

"Agent Burke, I'm surprised to find you here!" Peter looked up at the doctor that had just entered the room and let out a laugh. The young physician was in charge of Neal's case now and Peter had happened to be in the room almost every time Dr. Porter had been in to check on Neal. The two men had developed something of a friendly repartee. "I'm actually really glad you're in here with him. I wanted to try something new with Neal."

Peter watched quizzically as Dr. Porter pulled the sheets up and away from the foot of Neal's bed, exposing his feet. The doctor removed one blue and white hospital sock then produced a pen from his breast pocket. Drawing the pen across the base of Neal's foot, the doctor and Peter watched as Neal's toes responded immediately, curling downward with a jerk of his foot.

"AH HA! PERFECT!" The doctor's sudden exuberance took Peter by surprise and the young doctor looked as if he was about to pull Peter into a hug. A smile stretched from ear to ear across his face. "That, my dear FBI friend, is a very good sign!"

"What do you mean?" Peter asked quickly. The man's enthusiasm was infectious.

"It's a test. What Neal's foot did just there is a normal reflexive response to stimuli indicating no issues with his spine. The definitive proof will come when he's awake and we get him on his feet, but this is a very, VERY good sign. I could just _kiss_ that wife of yours!"

"Hey! What's all the commotion?" Peter threw the doctor a mock look of outrage as Elizabeth and Sara entered the room. Dr. Porter enthusiastically showed them the test he'd preformed on Neal again and both women had tears in their eyes when he had finished. Every day had been a battle. To have some indication of a port in the storm was more than any of them could ever have hoped for.


	14. Chapter 14

It all started with a beep. At first Peter thought it was a trick of his ears, of too many days and too many nights in the hospital, but then the beep would come again. Soon it was a persistent beep that had his heart racing and fingers pressing at the nurse's call button. He could have danced the woman around the room that entered, told him to calm down, and explained that it was just the respirator indicating Neal was taking some breaths on his own. She didn't seem to comprehend the enormity of what she was telling him and Peter immediately wanted to call Elizabeth and share the news. He thanked the bemused nurse and made the call.

After hanging up with Elizabeth, Peter searched his friend's face for some kind of change. Some sign that Neal was fighting to regain consciousness. When nothing more happened, Peter contented himself with counting the beeps of the respirator, silently cheering each time it hinted at Neal's possible return. He prayed, called Mozzie and left him a voicemail, called Sara who broke down sobbing on the phone, explaining that she wouldn't be able to get back to the hospital again until tomorrow. After calming the young woman down and promising to watch over Neal for her, Peter settled back into his chair for the nightly episode of Jeopardy playing on the hospital room's small TV. He was thinking of another night like this but at his own home, sitting with Neal and being pummeled as the CI correctly answered every question but one in a video game version of the game show, when a small movement caught at the corner of his eye.

Peter stared with fascination as Neal's hand moved against the white sheet of the hospital bed. He quickly took the hand in his own and flipped the overhead light on with his free hand. Neal visibly drew away from the harsh light that flooded his form and Peter held his breath. Dark lashes that had made constant smudges on Neal's cheeks for weeks were starting to flutter. With great difficulty, eyelids rose sluggishly, slowly, so agonizingly slowly until Peter was almost physically floored by the intense blue gaze that met his own. The eyes recognized him, Peter saw it immediately, but then the azure eyes filled with fear and Neal began to choke.

"Neal! Oh, kid you've got to relax. You're in the hospital buddy and they've got you on a respirator. You were having trouble breathing on your own. Just breathe around it buddy, I know it's uncomfortable but you have to try and not fight it." The increase in Neal's heart rate had brought the nurse back into the room. She stopped short at the door and shouted over her shoulder for someone to page Dr. Porter before coming up to Peter's side. She didn't make him move, seeing that Neal was responding to Peter's soothing and was beginning to calm. She instead busied herself with checking his vitals and keeping watch should Neal have any more difficulty. He was so weak and could barely move, let alone jar the IVs and monitors surrounding him.

"That's better, Neal. I know it sucks, but the doctor will be here soon and maybe they'll get that thing out of your throat." Neal's eyes were still huge and full of fear, but he was calming. Closing them briefly, a tear made its way down the side of Neal's face and Peter felt his heart break in two. "I promise, Neal, everything is alright. Please don't cry, you're okay." Desperate to offer some sort of comfort, Peter brushed the hair from Neal's forehead and ran a soothing hand over his cheek, chasing the tear away with the light pass of fingers. The CI was quaking and Peter was at a loss as to how to help his panicked friend. Dr. Porter chose that same moment to breeze into the room, a sense of ease seeming to follow him in.

"Mr. Caffrey, I almost didn't believe what they were saying in the hall! Awake at last!" Neal opened his eyes at the doctor's grandiose entrance. "I'm Doctor Porter. Do you know where you are? Blink one for yes, two for no." Peter saw his struggling friend blink twice.

"You were shot in the chest two weeks ago and you're in the hospital. I'm going to give you everything straight because I can guess from what these friends of yours tell me that you're a strong guy and can take it. Yes?" One blink, Peter could almost feel Neal's patented cockiness behind it. "I thought so, I can't get Peter here to shut up about you." Dr. Porter shot Peter a reassuring smile then turned back to Neal.

"We ran some tests on you a few hours ago and your oxygen levels still have me a little concerned so I'm not comfortable taking you off the respirator just yet. I'll have the lovely Nurse Kelley here run some new ones and if you're improving, we'll talk about taking it out, okay?" Two angry blinks. "I thought you might say that, but we're going to give you something to help you relax and hopefully you'll sleep through the worst of this." One blink. Dr. Porter gave the orders and after a friendly clasp on the shoulder to Peter, breezed back out of the room. The nurse drew blood then returned once more to administer the promised drugs to relax Neal. Peter took back his seat at Neal's bedside and turned the chair so he could face his friend. Neal was crying again, tears of frustration tracking away from the corners of his eyes and Peter was filled with a feeling of complete and utter uselessness.

"Neal, I know you're scared and that this is a lot to take in right now, but I promise you I'm not going anywhere. I'll be with you the entire time. You will never be alone." Neal's anguished eyes blinked once and he smiled weakly around the respirator tube. Peter put a reassuring hand over Neal's heart trying to convey without words that he was there 100% for his friend. Tears came to his eyes as Neal's own hand reached to cover his and squeeze slighty.

"You've got this, Neal."

Peter's emotions were warring between the absolute joy that welled up inside is chest and the heavy unyielding anxiety at the fear in Neal's eyes at having to endure the respirator. Thankfully, blessedly, the drugs were quick and an exhausted Neal slipped into sleep within minutes. When Peter was sure his friend would not stir again, he slipped into the hall to call everyone and break the news that Neal had awoken.

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The evening hours passed by quietly. Unwilling to chance disrupting the healing sleep Neal so desperately needed, Peter kept the lights and the television low. He only left Neal's side once when Dr. Porter returned brandishing improved oxygen stat's and gently asked him to step outside while they removed the dastardly respirator tube from Neal's throat. Peter was more than happy to oblige, knowing he couldn't take another round of seeing Neal so uncomfortable. The door was only shut on him for a few moments before he was allowed back in.

Neal's face was pale and half hidden by the oxygen mask, but he was awake and his eyes lit up when Peter walked back in. Dr. Porter had raised the head of Neal's bed slightly and was giving him instructions on how to work the remotes and where the call button was located. After making sure Neal was comfortable and not in any pain, the doctor left the Agent and his CI alone.

"Neal, you have no idea how good it is to see you awake and off that machine, my friend."

"H.. how how..long?" It was a harsh attempt at speech that made Peter's own throat constrict in sympathy. He remembered that feeling all too well.

"Neal, please don't try to talk. I know you have a lot of questions, but the best thing for you to do right now is rest."

"How long?" the pitiful rasping demanded. Peter could see what a struggle it was for the young man to get any words out at all and it turned his insides to mush.

"You've been unconscious for two weeks, Neal. You lost a lot of blood when… after they shot you and there was a lot of internal damage. Do you remember anything about that day?" Neal paused a moment in thought before shaking his head weakly.

"All…a…blurr,"

"That's to be expected, Neal. You let me take care of putting the puzzle pieces together. You need to rest now."

"Sara?" Neal croaked, somewhat indignantly. The question stopped Peter short. Did he dare do this now? The pleading look in Neal's eyes only made it worse.

"What do you mean?" sounded safe enough.

"She w's trying to call me. Ignored her, months. She ok?"

"She's fine, Neal. In fact, now that you're awake, she's perfect. Told me so herself." The lightness brought the ghost of a smile to Neal's lips. "She'll be by in the morning to see you. Lets save the rest of your quandaries till then, okay?" Neal nodded slightly, eyes already beginning to droop. The energy exerted just from their small conversation had taken its toll on Neal and he dropped into sleep once again.


	15. Chapter 15

The morning brought a parade of visitors to the Caffrey hospital room, though the majority of the well wishers were turned away as Neal spent most of the day in sleep. His alert moments came and went, though he was never as engaged as he had been the night before with Peter. Dr. Porter explained that it was natural, Neal's body was beginning the long journey toward rehabilitation and needed plenty of rest. He was also still fighting the lingering effects of an infection. The one constant, just as it had been since Neal was brought to the hospital, was Peter. The Agent's dedication to his friend's every need was quickly becoming stuff of legend among the ICU staff who had never once imagined trying to impose visiting hours on the man. He was there for protection, they would say if questioned by the uninitiated, he was guarding the man in ICU 4 and was not to be bothered.

Elizabeth and Sara had arrived early in the morning to try and talk Peter into leaving for a few hours to freshen up. Peter, however, was determined to stay by his friend's side until he was sure Neal understood everything that had happened to him and knew exactly what was going on with his case. Plus, he argued, the psycho who started the entire debacle was still out there and for all they knew, planning his next move. No amount of cajoling would convince him that anyone but himself was capable of keeping Neal safe. They were, however, eventually able to coax Peter out of the room and outside to a cheerful employee courtyard for a breath of fresh air and a shower in the doctor's locker room, but as soon as he was finished he was back at Neal's side.

Peter was reading a magazine El had brought him later that afternoon, when Neal awoke again.

"Hey there!" He exclaimed when he turned to find bright blue eyes taking him in. The oxygen mask was gone, replaced by a cannula that looked uncomfortable even to Peter and he wasn't the one who had to wear it. As if reading his thoughts, Neal scratched at the plastic rammed unceremoniously up his nose.

"I hate these things," Neal said, his voice still horse but a bit clearer.

"I hear you there," Peter replied, remembering his own experience with the horrid device. "How are you feeling?"

"Every inch of me hurts." It didn't surprise Peter to hear Neal say this. A physical therapist had been in while Neal slept and did some exercises on his long unused muscles. The poor guy was still so out of it, he'd slept completely through the entire session.

"I know, Neal." Peter patted his forearm sympathetically.

"What day is it?"

"November 19th."

"Almost Thanksgiving."

"See , your comedian nurses even drew a picture of a turkey on your board over there," he said, pointing to a dry erase board on the far wall. "I hear the hospital serves a fantastic turkey, all sawdust." Peter's heart lifted at the sight of Neal's smile. The friendly banter between the two men was like a breath of fresh air. It was not lost on Peter how different Neal's hospital room felt now that his friend was finally awake and on the mend. There was an airiness and lightness about the place that filled Peter with a hope he hadn't dared let blossom a day ago. A thought came to him and he figured now was as good a time as any to try something.

"Neal, you asked me last night about Sara. Do you remember that?"

"I did?"

"Yeah, you asked me if she was okay. Said she had been trying to get a hold of you but you were ignoring her. You don't remember?"

"No... I... well, maybe. Yes, I guess I do, vaguely. Why? Is everything okay?" Anxious that the time they had together would be brief and that the CI's energy would soon wane, Peter was up on his feet without answering. The question hung between them as he told Neal to sit tight, he would be right back.

Peter found the girl's where he'd expected, sharing a cup of tea in the hospital cafeteria. When Peter told them that Neal was awake and talking and that now was as good a time as any to tell him about Sara, they rose quickly and followed him back up to Neal's floor. On the way up, it was decided that Sara would hold back and wait while he and Elizabeth prepared Neal for what could possibly be the biggest news of his life. Left alone in the hallway, Sara had nothing to do but wait and agonize over what might come next. Wringing her hands in desperation, she almost missed Elizabeth call for her.


	16. Chapter 16

"Peter, Elizabeth, what's this all about?" Neal could tell something was afoot as soon as Peter and Elizabeth had come back into his room looking nervous but unable to suppress conspiratorial smiles. Neal was fighting against a building fatigue he could feel creeping up on him. Whatever they had planned they needed to do it quick. Sleep was already beginning to sound like a good idea.

Neal cursed his drug addled mind when he realized he had not heard a single thing they'd just said to him.

"Neal, if you're not up to visitors, we can have her come back. You're starting to look a little worn around the edges."

"No," who were they talking about? "I'm fine, I'd love to have a visitor." And he was happy for the company. He didn't remember much of the last 24 hours, but snippets of waking with the terror of being unable to breath around the tube in his throat and of unfamiliar doctors and nurses buzzing around him were coming back to him. The one constant though it all though had been Peter's presence. He could hold tight to those bits of memories and keep himself from disappearing.

"Neal!" Peter's voice snapped him back into the here and now. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm just tired. It's these drugs." Peter looked at him with concern but didn't push it further.

"Alright. I need you here with us for just a little while longer, okay? There's something you need to know." Neal's heart sped up and something teetered on the edge of remembering. What was it he was supposed to remember? It was important, he could feel that much. Sleepiness was all but forgotten when Elizabeth softly called for Sara.

She was beautiful, positively resplendent and instant beacon in the crashing storm around him. Yet, she did not meet his eyes and looked on the verge of tears. Her stomach barely showed through the dress she wore, but Neal was a con man who's craft was built from a keen and well honed sense of perception. Sara was pregnant. He was going to be a father.

_"I need you to call me as soon as you get this._

_I have something I need to tell you._

_It's important. Please, call me as soon as you get this."_

...

_"Anyway, Sara had a real good reason to need to speak with you. She's pregnant, buddy. You're going to be a daddy."_

...

How could he have been so blind.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX 

It was not in Sara Ellis' nature to back down from a fight or to slink her way through a difficult situation. She was a freaking Insurance Investigator for one of the largest insurance brokers in Manhattan, so why was it that she couldn't even raise her eyes to face the man who, quite frankly, had gotten her into this mess in the first place?

Sara had shed her tears over the imminent loss of the independence she'd enjoyed for the last 30 years and had, in the recent months, grown more and more excited about her impending motherhood. The only problem with it all was that the father of her child had remained blissfully ignorant of it all. It wasn't for lack of trying that he remained in the dark. Sara's thoughts flashed back to her attempts at contact with Neal and the simmering anger that had taken up residence in her heart until that day she met Peter in the ambulance bay after Neal had been shot. The mantra she had taken up, 'the hell with Neal Caffrey,' had died there in the parking lot, along with her anger, to be replaced by a growing fear that Neal would not make it out of all this alive. The thought of being alone, while not foreign to her, had positively overwhelmed her as she had followed Peter into that surgical waiting room.

The thought of losing Neal had defeated her, and she didn't like the new Sara that had taken Old Sara's place. She was determined to get her back, though. So Sara raised her eyes and met the gaze of her former lover.

The expression on Neal's was one of astonishment, quickly melting into a smile that could have lit the room on its own. The meaning of that smile had the anxiety of the past few weeks dropping away from Sara's shoulders like a sodden cloak as tears filled her eyes. Neal was holding his arms out to her, accepting her and their shared situation and Sara's brain was still trying to make sense of it all. She followed hormones instead, and found herself sobbing into the crook of Neal's neck, his arms enveloping her in a weak but still present hold. She didn't pull away until the arms around her began to tremble and fell away from her.

"God, Neal, I'm so sorry." Sara exclaimed, pulling herself up and away from Neal.

"No, its fine. Please, don't go." He was transfixed on her, desperate to keep her close. A shaky hand used up the last of Neal's reserves as it came to rest lightly on her belly. Something small greeted the hand with a flutter and Sara brought up her hands to cover his. Neal's eyes went wide and he began to cry.

"Neal," It was all Sara could get out around the emotions in her throat.

"I'm sorry, Sara. You..."

"Please don't. You've been through so much and I forgave you ages ago. It's in the past." She said softly, caressing the side of his face. His eyes closed at her touch.

"Neal?" She asked when they didn't reopen for several seconds.

"I'm just... just so tired." He said, not opening his eyes.

"Then rest, Neal. It's okay. Everything is going to be okay and none of us are going anywhere. We'll be right here when you wake up." Neal was trying desperately to fight the fatigue, but he had been pushed so far past his emotional and physical endurance, he could not will his eyelids open again. Within moments his chest resumed the heavy rise and fall of a deep and healing sleep.

Peter and Elizabeth, who had been quietly watching the exchange between Neal and Sara, stood close together with fingers laced. The silent moment that passed between them spoke volumes.

"I love you," it said. "To the end of time."


	17. Chapter 17

When the dust had settled a little from the big news, Peter found himself once again alone with the sleeping Neal. He studied the father to be, searching for some subtle change, but none was there. He briefly let his mind wander to what he would do had such news been directed his way, but quickly shook his head, trying to dislodge the silly thoughts. Instead he thought of the future and what it would mean for him when Neal was whole again. Would he be able to return to work? Surely the FBI wouldn't send him back to prison if he was unable to come back to White Collar, especially now that he had almost given his life for an operation. No, if Neal was in any way unable to return to his duties at White Collar Peter would fight tooth and nail to keep him free and in New York to be close to Sara and their new baby. Even if Peter had to promise to keep him chained to a desk for the rest of his career at the FBI, he would get Neal back in some capacity. You could always consult from a couch.

"Peter? PETER! He's got a gun! He's back. Oh god, he's back, Peter!" Neal was suddenly thrashing in the bed, shattering the still silence of the room. They had just recently moved Neal away from the ICU to another floor and Peter hadn't yet formed the attachment with these nurses as he had the ones in ICU. However, his reputation seemed to have proceeded him as the first day in the new surroundings, every nurse greeted him by name. Now the unfamiliar nurse who came in to see what the commotion was tried to kick Peter immediately out of the room. He ignored her, all thoughts on the dreaming Neal.

"Neal! Son, it's just a dream! You gotta wake up for me, Neal." No response. "Come on, kid. You're safe, you're still in the hospital." Peter was starting to worry about the IVs as Neal continued to thrash about the bed, and he was also becoming aware of a startling intense heat radiating from his CI. He was about to shout the observation to the nurse when Neal stilled suddenly in his grasp. Shiny, fever filled eyes opened but didn't seem to see Peter or recognize him in any way.

"Neal, are you alright? Neal!?" There was a slight response, Neal finally looked him in the eye.

"Peter, he's got a gun. He's back. You have to run, Peter. Run." the last word all but died on his lips and Neal went limp. An alarm started to sound, the body beneath Peter's fingers began to convulse and this time he was bodily removed from his friend's side by an orderly the nurse had called. He was being dragged from the room, away from his dying friend and Peter fought the orderly with all the energy he had in his depleted reserves. When the nurse drew a sudden breath, their struggle stopped abruptly and both Peter and the orderly turned toward her.

"His temp is 106, page Doctor Porter now."

...

_How much more was he expected to endure?_

_..._

"We need to ice him down."

...

_When was enough, enough?_


	18. Chapter 18

"Boss?"

"BOSS!"

"WHAT JONES?! I'M ON THE PHONE!"

"Sir, they think they've got something."

"What? Who? No, El, not you. Let me call you back. What, Jones?"

"The team working on the books, they think they may have cracked an address. They wanted to wait for you before they moved on it. It's going down now, Sir."

"...Can you drive?"

"Car's already out front, Boss."

"Diana?"

"Waiting in the car for us."

"Okay, give me the details on the way."


	19. Chapter 19

A sleepy little hamlet, that's how he would describe the neighborhood where the nightmare finally ended. It wasn't far from the water. New York harbor had a distinctly familiar smell that could be detected in the wind that tugged Peter's hair out of place and into his eyes. The neighborhood was almost quaint. There were actual houses here, not the rows of brownstones that he was used to or the imposing skyscrapers that made up the cityscape of his job. This neighborhood had all the characteristics of a sleepy suburb, tucked into a corner of the never ending metropolis that was New York City. He would later embellish his story of suiting up with the swat team that would inevitably help him bring an end to the horror story he'd been living for the past several weeks. He'd joke that they traded war stories and took down the perpetrator in a hailstorm of bullets, but the real reality was that Peter Burke was scared. He was scared shitless. From the moment he fumbled on a bullet proof vest with trembling fingers to the moment he slammed the cruiser door closed behind the securely detained prisoner, Peter Burke was a sweating, quaking pile of scared.

The end began on the street. The swat team would take their signal to enter the building from him. The irony of this position was not lost on Peter. He led a team of White Collar crime investigators. He had no business here leading a seasoned swat team into a potentially dangerous situation with nothing more to go on than the deciphered ramblings of a mad man.

Even the constant New York City noise was absent tonight. It felt as though if one word was spoken, this strange dream he found himself in would be shattered and he would be back in Neal's hospital room, holding his friend close and sobbing at the injustice of it all. But this was not a dream, this was anything but a dream. A slight tilt of his head set the pieces in motion.

The door was instantly kicked in. Black clad men swarmed stealthily and silently into the house and the report of gunfire awoke the sleepy New York hamlet. Porch lights came on and officers worked quietly to keep people in their homes. Peter reminded himself to breathe and pulled air back into aching lungs. He was waiting for the sign, for the moment they would call him into that house and he would face for the first time the person who had nearly brought his world tumbling down. The seconds moved past like hours, Peter's hand moved back and forth between the radio at his breast and the Glock at his side until finally the swat leader exited the house and signaled for Peter to join him.

Peter crossed a perfectly manicured lawn and his attention was drawn to a plump little garden gnome smiled happily up at him from the concrete porch. Juxtaposed beside it, the imposing swat leader waived him through and into the house.

The inside surprised him. It was very clean and well-kept with tasteful furnishings, not at all what he had been expecting in the den of a mad man. The second mad man he would encounter in as many weeks. The swat team had surrounded a t-shirted man cuffed and seated at the kitchen table, his back to Peter. The man was small, also not what Peter had expected. Suddenly, Peter no longer wanted to be in this perfectly clean house with the man who was not in fact a monster, but instead a flesh and blood human being. His heart beat loudly in his chest and he wondered if the man or the swat team surrounding him could hear it thump away in his chest. He needed to get out of this moment and out of that house, he was even making to turn around and run when Neal's face swam to the forefront of his thoughts. Neal, those fevered eyes looking at him so desperately before closing. Neal, who's flashing memory demanded swift and unyielding retribution for the crimes committed against him.

Peter forced his body to turn back, forced his feet forward and around the table to face the man who had conjured the chaos of the past three weeks.

* * *

_A/N: the next chapter is the last chapter. I should be able to post it tomorrow!_


	20. Chapter 20

"Vincent Alder, Jr. you have been tried and found guilty by a jury of your peers of murder in the first degree, conspiracy to commit murder and attempted murder. While the laws of the great state of New York no longer allow this court to bring down upon you the most severe of punishments, it is the will of this court that you be sentenced to Life in prison without the possibility of parole. The heinous nature of your crimes and the complete lack of remorse you have shown for the lives you have taken has shocked and saddened this court. Due to the nature of your crimes and at his request, I shall allow Agent Peter Burke of the FBI to address you personally, sir, before you are remitted into the hands of the New York State Board of Corrections to serve your life sentence. Agent Burke?"

"Thank you, your honor. Mr. Adler, I made my request to speak to you today because of a promise I made a very dear friend of mine. It has come to light during these proceedings that you blame me personally for the death of your father, Vincent Adler, and while it's true that it was my bullet that ended his life, it was your father's own actions that brought about his demise. I have also learned that, had you remained free, you would have attempted to take the life of my wife, Elizabeth and the lives of my team in the White Collar division of the FBI. Well, I am here today to remind you that you failed in every way in your sick bid to avenge your father. You did not succeed in ending my life sir, or the lives of those I hold most dear in your quest for revenge. I will leave this court room today a free and breathing man while you will rot in a prison cell for the rest of your life with no company but your own failure. My family and I will leave this all behind. You will live the nightmare for the rest of your life. Thank you, your Honor, for the opportunity to speak."

The courtroom was hushed as Peter left the podium. He was trying to hide the shake of his hands, grateful that his words had come out clear as he stood before the court. Passing beside the defense table he was almost relieved that Vincent Adler Jr. did not raise his eyes to look at Peter as he passed. The man looked so like his father that it was unnerving to look at him at all. Peter instead met the gaze of Adler's lawyer who had the decency to look apologetic and concerned. Adler's greasy and unkempt head remained bowed, his eyes cast to the floor. Peter walked quickly from the court room, a desperate need to be rid of the place propelling him forward. The judge was just beginning to speak again when he finally made it through the doors.

The group waiting outside for Peter descended on him immediately, pulling him into an almost awkward group hug. Someone started to laugh nervously and soon they were all smiling as a year's worth of tension broke away. The nerves were still exposed, the smallest breeze could bring the blazing pain back in an instant, but their wounds were slowly healing over.

"That… that was a lot harder than I thought it would be. The kid never even looked at me and I thought for sure I was going to lose at one point." Peter admitted, slipping his arm around Elizabeth.

"Yeah, but you didn't. You did great, Peter. Oscar worthy," Neal joked, poking Peter in the stomach with his cane. He didn't really need the cane anymore, but on days like today when the air was humid, the site where the bullet stopped so precariously close to his spine, still aggravated him slightly.

"I don't know about Oscar worthy, but it needed to be said. For my sake as much as his if he even registered it. That kid was the coolest cucumber I've ever seen on trial. It's no wonder the defense tried for an insanity plea at one time. "

"You were brave to say it at all," Sara spoke up, adjusting the sleeping infant in her arms so she could hug Peter again. Melody Elizabeth Caffrey-Ellis was cute when she was sleeping, she was cute when she was awake, too... all Sara Ellis eyes and Neal Caffrey smile. "It's over now, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Peter answered, taking in the faces of those around him with a smile. "It's over now."

FIN

* * *

_A/N: A huge thank you to everyone who stuck with me and followed this story through to the end. I am eternally grateful for all the wonderful reviews, words of encouragement and some new friends I made a long the way. This story was originally going to be all Neal whump and no case. I love that it evolved into such a complex story that took me a long for a ride as well :) On to the next!_


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